I see you, baby. Shakin' that ass. Shakin' that ass.
Inception fanfic- Arthur/Eames, NC17. 50% crack, 50% smut. Thanks to my friend Laura for her help and encouragement. This is for this prompt in _kink round 11.
Arthur first spies Eames from across the terminal, standing at his baggage claim, and tries not to make eye contact. He’s just gotten off the plane and is buzzing with adrenaline, ready to go to his hotel’s gym to jog off the rush. He hasn’t seen Eames since their last job together, and that was nearly two months ago. He doesn’t want to say that he missed Eames’ stupid innuendo, though, so he tries not to draw attention to himself.
Despite his best efforts at getting away unnoticed, Eames detects Arthur’s dark, slicked back hair and pristine suit jacket. He grabs his suitcase and strolls over with an amused look on his face, hands slipped casually into his own pockets. He stops two feet in front of Arthur and wets his lips.
“Arthur.” He draws out the syllables as if he’s savoring the taste of it on his tongue. With a casual arch of his eyebrow, he asks “How long are you in town for?”
It’s a week before Christmas and the airport is bustling with eager travelers and elated families. There is an air of excitement and Arthur is in a good mood after a job well done. He bends over to pluck his suitcase off the baggage carousel, slower than really necessary, and enjoys a small, sly smile for himself. Eames doesn’t try to keep his eyes from lingering on the gloriously stretched fabric of Arthur’s beautifully made Dunhill suit pants. Or maybe they are Yves Saint Laurent. Or possibly Caraceni. Eames wants to find out who made this suit so he can thank the designer personally.
“Lucky for you, Mr. Eames, I’m here for six days.” Arthur straightens, suitcase now on solid ground. Eames’ eyes are still raking over his body appreciatively.
“Lucky me, indeed. Last I remember, you were going to be in Cairo for another week.” He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows knitted together in false surprise.
“Eames,” Arthur puts a little less space between them and touches the button on Eames’ khaki blazer, his voice even. “I haven’t seen you in two months. I just,” he hesitates, lowering his eyes. “I just missed you a little bit.”
“Ha ha, Arthur. I await the day you mean it when you say it.”
“What makes you think I don’t mean it now?” There’s a devious glint in his eyes. The job must have gone extremely well for him to be acting like this. Usually he merely tolerates Eames’ incessant flirting.
Eames leans in and put his lips next to Arthur’s ear, hands still in his own pockets. “I can very well feel my totem right now, so I know I’m not dreaming. That’s how.” He steps back and winks at a random onlooker, sending her on her way.
Arthur looks down at Eames’ covered hands, the left one balled up into a fist inside his pocket. Eames watches Arthur’s eyes and snorts at where he thinks he is looking. Upon realizing this, Arthur sighs and picks up his suitcase, ready to leave. Eames just chuckles, deciding that he has won this round.
“You know, darling, you really are quite fun when you act like you’re interested. It gives me something to think about nights when I’m alone.” He winks again and the way he purses his lips is almost vulgar. Arthur stares at his mouth for a second too long, because Eames’ eyes light up and he licks his lower lip; an invitation.
“I must be a good actor, then.” At this, Arthur starts walking toward the exit, Eames trailing behind with his own luggage. They’re standing outside the airport and Arthur is looking for his driver and car when it pulls up to the curb. The trunk pops open and he moves to put his suitcase in when Eames rubs the tips of his fingers along the lines of the Mercedes.
“You know how you tease me, Arthur. It really isn’t fair. I think you owe me.” He’s hiding a smile, ready to win round two of the verbal sparring.
Arthur doesn’t fall for it. He’s seen this bait before. Usually he dismisses it with an “I don’t owe you anything,” but today he’s feeling feisty. “Maybe I do. How can I make it up to you?” He bats his eyelashes, playing innocent.
But Eames refuses to lose to this man with the nicest ass this side of the Atlantic. “You should probably take me to your room and fuck me like I know you want to.”
“Yes, I should. I was going to use the treadmill to burn off this energy, but I think I’d rather see that naughty mouth of yours pushed into the mattress.” His eyes are serious, but his mouth is quirked and hiding a devilish smile. Eames is thrown and gives this round to Arthur.
Arthur slides into the backseat of the glossy black sedan, leaving Eames standing speechless with his luggage on the curb. Before shutting his door, he adds “The Four Seasons on East 57th. When you’re ready to live up your suggestion, there’ll be a key for you at the front desk.”
The car is weaving into the airport traffic and disappears before Eames is able to close his gaping mouth.
--
Half an hour later, Eames is on the bed in his own hotel room, contemplating whether or not to go over to Arthur’s hotel. He knows that, if there’s any chance he can get him naked, he’s going to take it. On the other hand, he knows that Arthur lives hard and plays hard. This could be his way of finally breaking Eames of his flirting habit and calling his bluff, or he could actually be interested.
No matter how much Eames wants to believe it is the latter, he knows it is otherwise. Not wanting to hurt his carefully constructed reputation of being cocky and charming, he throws his blazer back on and hails a cab.
“Yes, I believe there’s a key waiting for me from guest Cameron Callahan?” Eames taps his knuckles against the desk, an unconscious nervous behavior.
“William?”
“Yes, that’s right.” He winks at the woman as she hands over the key with a timid smile.
“Enjoy your stay!” And she doesn’t know just how much Eames will.
Arthur’s room is on the fourth floor of the 52 floor building. After pressing the button in the elevator, Eames starts turning the key over in his hand, thinking about what he could possibly say.
He stands in front of the fifth door on the right and considers cutting his losses and possibly never making any more sexual jokes toward him. He looks at the key in his hand and is in the middle of making his final decision when Arthur opens up the door, his eyebrow cocked. He had removed his jacket and tie and the top two buttons of his shirt wer undone.
Eames gets a peek at his collarbone, and his decision is made.
He pushes past Arthur and looks at the clothes he’s already hung up in the cabinet and the papers that are already strewn about the desk. “Have we moved into this hotel room already, love?”
He turns back around to look at Arthur and barely registers the expression on his face before he is being pushed against the wall next to the closed door. Arthur’s hips are pinning Eames’ and his hands are on his the wall on either side of his head. He grins a wicked smile and Eames raises his eyebrows, his heart pounding in his chest.
They stare at each other for a few seconds before Arthur smirks, “I always knew you were all talk.”
Arthur starts to lower his hands and turn around, but Eames reaches out, grabbing hold of his shoulder. Arthur looks at him with a quizzical brow and a playful smirk, giving in as Eames pulls him in roughly by his collar. Eames plants his mouth against Arthur’s, hard, letting his hands wander down his body, pulling at him aggressively. Arthur, surprised and delighted, darts his tongue between his lips. He loved his current submissive position, but he knows if he let Eames have all the power, he’d never hear the end of it. Eames was ready for such a dare, and bites Arthur’s bottom lip, sucking on it, proving his lust and dominance.
Using his hips, Arthur pushes him back up against the wall and pulls apart the top two buttons of Eames’ dress shirt. He leans down to suck at the newly exposed skin and Eames’ head falls back, his eyes rolling. He is biting his lips to keep quiet, but lets out a loud gasp when Arthur bites his collarbone.
At the sound of Eames’ intake of breath, Arthur mutters an “oh god” and reaches down to undo Eames’ belt. He looks back up and crashes their mouths back together sloppily. Once Arthur has got his hand inside Eames’ slacks, he finds his already hard cock and squeezes once.
Eames moans and pulls Arthur’s free hand up to his face, taking his first two fingers into his mouth. The rhythm Arthur had going falters for a second because his hips involuntarily jerk up and he is properly distracted. Eames uses this disruption to unbutton the rest of Arthur’s shirt and pushes him up against the room’s desk. Once he’s gotten his shirt off, he tosses it on the floor and tries to get Arthur to lie on the desk.
“Eames, all of my work is on here.”
“Yes, but I don’t think I can make the effort to move you elsewhere.” To further his point, he reaches around and palms Arthur’s ass, an appreciative smile on his face.
Tugging on Eames’ cock, Arthur says “Yes, but I remember saying something about fucking you into the mattress.”
“I recall.” Eames starts walking toward the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, taking in the room. Arthur goes into the bathroom while Eames sits down on the edge and removes his shoes. Arthur comes out of the bathroom with a small bottle of lube and a condom in one hand.
“Well, aren’t we prepared? You’re my favorite Boy Scout, darling.” Eames smirks.
Arthur comes and stands in front of Eames, his cock straining against his pants. He leans down and kisses Eames again, snaking his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.
Eames undoes Arthur’s belt and zipper, pushing his pants and briefs down to the floor. He breaks the kiss and goes to lightly lick the precome off the tip of Arthur’s cock.
“Oh my god,” Arthur chokes out. Eames wraps his hands back around to his ass and pulls him a bit closer, nipping at the skin on his hips. One more guttural noise from Arthur and Eames licks a stripe up the underside before taking his cock into his mouth.
Trying to regain his dominance, Arthur pushes Eames onto his back and falls on top of him. Their lips touch, softer this time, and they are rubbing up against each other in a matter that is almost painfully slow.
“Oh, Arthur, I think you might be killing me. Please let me fuck you now.” Eames is pleading by this point, his face flushed with excitement.
This would sound good to Arthur on any other evening. “Next time.” He tears open the package and rolls the condom on and then spreads Eames’ legs open. His craving overpowers him; he leans down and sucks the tip of Eames’ cock into his mouth.
Eames bucks his hips up, trying to gain purchase into Arthur’s mouth, but doesn’t find it. Arthur leans back up, half a smile on his face, and coats himself with the lube. Throwing the bottle aside, he lifts up Eames’ legs and slowly tries to insert himself.
Eames is biting his lips again, but his eyes are open and looking at Arthur’s hard chest and smooth arms. The way his face looks smug yet patient.
Arthur is busy trying to stretch Eames without hurting him, so he doesn’t notice his audience.
Once he fully gets inside, Eames lets out an “oh fuck” and Arthur moans. Arthur feels that he won’t last long, so he reaches down to stroke Eames. He pulls his thumb over the head, smearing the precome, and matches the strokes to his thrusting, twisting slightly.
After a while, Eames’ eyes start to roll back in his head. But then his eyes snap open and he reaches down to take Arthur’s fingers back into his mouth. Arthur bucks a little more wildly, feeling the end near.
With the tips of Arthur’s fingers still in his mouth, he gasps twice more and comes over his own stomach. Feeling the contractions of Eames’ ass around Arthur’s cock, he bows his head and thrusts a few more times before he comes as well.
A moment later, Arthur collapses onto Eames’ chest and sticky stomach, his head resting in the crook of Eames’ neck. He licks lazily at his shoulder, panting. Eames trails his fingers down Arthur’s back before cupping his ass again. He can’t help it, it’s just so beautiful.
After an indefinable amount of time, Arthur rolls off Eames and onto his back, wiping his hand across his face and smoothing his hair back out of his eyes.
Eames continues to lie on his back, a slow grin spreading over his face. He did it. He saw and felt a naked Arthur. This was much better than winning a round of verbal sparring.
“You know, I don’t remember my ‘naughty mouth’ ever being pushed into the mattress.”
“Fuck you, Eames,” Arthur mumbles, a smile in his voice.
“I’m going to need another moment, then.” Eames looks over at Arthur and laughs. Arthur laughs too and leans over to give him one long kiss before moving onto his back again.
“I’m going to get some water from the minibar. Would you like anything?”
“Water,” Arthur responds simply, throwing his arm over his eyes.
Eames gets off the bed and stumbles once before making it over to the mini-bar. He accidentally steps on Arthur’s pants that were left at the foot of the bed. With a chuckle, he leans down to look at the label on them.
Sure enough, they were Dunhill.
Arthur first spies Eames from across the terminal, standing at his baggage claim, and tries not to make eye contact. He’s just gotten off the plane and is buzzing with adrenaline, ready to go to his hotel’s gym to jog off the rush. He hasn’t seen Eames since their last job together, and that was nearly two months ago. He doesn’t want to say that he missed Eames’ stupid innuendo, though, so he tries not to draw attention to himself.
Despite his best efforts at getting away unnoticed, Eames detects Arthur’s dark, slicked back hair and pristine suit jacket. He grabs his suitcase and strolls over with an amused look on his face, hands slipped casually into his own pockets. He stops two feet in front of Arthur and wets his lips.
“Arthur.” He draws out the syllables as if he’s savoring the taste of it on his tongue. With a casual arch of his eyebrow, he asks “How long are you in town for?”
It’s a week before Christmas and the airport is bustling with eager travelers and elated families. There is an air of excitement and Arthur is in a good mood after a job well done. He bends over to pluck his suitcase off the baggage carousel, slower than really necessary, and enjoys a small, sly smile for himself. Eames doesn’t try to keep his eyes from lingering on the gloriously stretched fabric of Arthur’s beautifully made Dunhill suit pants. Or maybe they are Yves Saint Laurent. Or possibly Caraceni. Eames wants to find out who made this suit so he can thank the designer personally.
“Lucky for you, Mr. Eames, I’m here for six days.” Arthur straightens, suitcase now on solid ground. Eames’ eyes are still raking over his body appreciatively.
“Lucky me, indeed. Last I remember, you were going to be in Cairo for another week.” He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows knitted together in false surprise.
“Eames,” Arthur puts a little less space between them and touches the button on Eames’ khaki blazer, his voice even. “I haven’t seen you in two months. I just,” he hesitates, lowering his eyes. “I just missed you a little bit.”
“Ha ha, Arthur. I await the day you mean it when you say it.”
“What makes you think I don’t mean it now?” There’s a devious glint in his eyes. The job must have gone extremely well for him to be acting like this. Usually he merely tolerates Eames’ incessant flirting.
Eames leans in and put his lips next to Arthur’s ear, hands still in his own pockets. “I can very well feel my totem right now, so I know I’m not dreaming. That’s how.” He steps back and winks at a random onlooker, sending her on her way.
Arthur looks down at Eames’ covered hands, the left one balled up into a fist inside his pocket. Eames watches Arthur’s eyes and snorts at where he thinks he is looking. Upon realizing this, Arthur sighs and picks up his suitcase, ready to leave. Eames just chuckles, deciding that he has won this round.
“You know, darling, you really are quite fun when you act like you’re interested. It gives me something to think about nights when I’m alone.” He winks again and the way he purses his lips is almost vulgar. Arthur stares at his mouth for a second too long, because Eames’ eyes light up and he licks his lower lip; an invitation.
“I must be a good actor, then.” At this, Arthur starts walking toward the exit, Eames trailing behind with his own luggage. They’re standing outside the airport and Arthur is looking for his driver and car when it pulls up to the curb. The trunk pops open and he moves to put his suitcase in when Eames rubs the tips of his fingers along the lines of the Mercedes.
“You know how you tease me, Arthur. It really isn’t fair. I think you owe me.” He’s hiding a smile, ready to win round two of the verbal sparring.
Arthur doesn’t fall for it. He’s seen this bait before. Usually he dismisses it with an “I don’t owe you anything,” but today he’s feeling feisty. “Maybe I do. How can I make it up to you?” He bats his eyelashes, playing innocent.
But Eames refuses to lose to this man with the nicest ass this side of the Atlantic. “You should probably take me to your room and fuck me like I know you want to.”
“Yes, I should. I was going to use the treadmill to burn off this energy, but I think I’d rather see that naughty mouth of yours pushed into the mattress.” His eyes are serious, but his mouth is quirked and hiding a devilish smile. Eames is thrown and gives this round to Arthur.
Arthur slides into the backseat of the glossy black sedan, leaving Eames standing speechless with his luggage on the curb. Before shutting his door, he adds “The Four Seasons on East 57th. When you’re ready to live up your suggestion, there’ll be a key for you at the front desk.”
The car is weaving into the airport traffic and disappears before Eames is able to close his gaping mouth.
--
Half an hour later, Eames is on the bed in his own hotel room, contemplating whether or not to go over to Arthur’s hotel. He knows that, if there’s any chance he can get him naked, he’s going to take it. On the other hand, he knows that Arthur lives hard and plays hard. This could be his way of finally breaking Eames of his flirting habit and calling his bluff, or he could actually be interested.
No matter how much Eames wants to believe it is the latter, he knows it is otherwise. Not wanting to hurt his carefully constructed reputation of being cocky and charming, he throws his blazer back on and hails a cab.
“Yes, I believe there’s a key waiting for me from guest Cameron Callahan?” Eames taps his knuckles against the desk, an unconscious nervous behavior.
“William?”
“Yes, that’s right.” He winks at the woman as she hands over the key with a timid smile.
“Enjoy your stay!” And she doesn’t know just how much Eames will.
Arthur’s room is on the fourth floor of the 52 floor building. After pressing the button in the elevator, Eames starts turning the key over in his hand, thinking about what he could possibly say.
He stands in front of the fifth door on the right and considers cutting his losses and possibly never making any more sexual jokes toward him. He looks at the key in his hand and is in the middle of making his final decision when Arthur opens up the door, his eyebrow cocked. He had removed his jacket and tie and the top two buttons of his shirt wer undone.
Eames gets a peek at his collarbone, and his decision is made.
He pushes past Arthur and looks at the clothes he’s already hung up in the cabinet and the papers that are already strewn about the desk. “Have we moved into this hotel room already, love?”
He turns back around to look at Arthur and barely registers the expression on his face before he is being pushed against the wall next to the closed door. Arthur’s hips are pinning Eames’ and his hands are on his the wall on either side of his head. He grins a wicked smile and Eames raises his eyebrows, his heart pounding in his chest.
They stare at each other for a few seconds before Arthur smirks, “I always knew you were all talk.”
Arthur starts to lower his hands and turn around, but Eames reaches out, grabbing hold of his shoulder. Arthur looks at him with a quizzical brow and a playful smirk, giving in as Eames pulls him in roughly by his collar. Eames plants his mouth against Arthur’s, hard, letting his hands wander down his body, pulling at him aggressively. Arthur, surprised and delighted, darts his tongue between his lips. He loved his current submissive position, but he knows if he let Eames have all the power, he’d never hear the end of it. Eames was ready for such a dare, and bites Arthur’s bottom lip, sucking on it, proving his lust and dominance.
Using his hips, Arthur pushes him back up against the wall and pulls apart the top two buttons of Eames’ dress shirt. He leans down to suck at the newly exposed skin and Eames’ head falls back, his eyes rolling. He is biting his lips to keep quiet, but lets out a loud gasp when Arthur bites his collarbone.
At the sound of Eames’ intake of breath, Arthur mutters an “oh god” and reaches down to undo Eames’ belt. He looks back up and crashes their mouths back together sloppily. Once Arthur has got his hand inside Eames’ slacks, he finds his already hard cock and squeezes once.
Eames moans and pulls Arthur’s free hand up to his face, taking his first two fingers into his mouth. The rhythm Arthur had going falters for a second because his hips involuntarily jerk up and he is properly distracted. Eames uses this disruption to unbutton the rest of Arthur’s shirt and pushes him up against the room’s desk. Once he’s gotten his shirt off, he tosses it on the floor and tries to get Arthur to lie on the desk.
“Eames, all of my work is on here.”
“Yes, but I don’t think I can make the effort to move you elsewhere.” To further his point, he reaches around and palms Arthur’s ass, an appreciative smile on his face.
Tugging on Eames’ cock, Arthur says “Yes, but I remember saying something about fucking you into the mattress.”
“I recall.” Eames starts walking toward the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, taking in the room. Arthur goes into the bathroom while Eames sits down on the edge and removes his shoes. Arthur comes out of the bathroom with a small bottle of lube and a condom in one hand.
“Well, aren’t we prepared? You’re my favorite Boy Scout, darling.” Eames smirks.
Arthur comes and stands in front of Eames, his cock straining against his pants. He leans down and kisses Eames again, snaking his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.
Eames undoes Arthur’s belt and zipper, pushing his pants and briefs down to the floor. He breaks the kiss and goes to lightly lick the precome off the tip of Arthur’s cock.
“Oh my god,” Arthur chokes out. Eames wraps his hands back around to his ass and pulls him a bit closer, nipping at the skin on his hips. One more guttural noise from Arthur and Eames licks a stripe up the underside before taking his cock into his mouth.
Trying to regain his dominance, Arthur pushes Eames onto his back and falls on top of him. Their lips touch, softer this time, and they are rubbing up against each other in a matter that is almost painfully slow.
“Oh, Arthur, I think you might be killing me. Please let me fuck you now.” Eames is pleading by this point, his face flushed with excitement.
This would sound good to Arthur on any other evening. “Next time.” He tears open the package and rolls the condom on and then spreads Eames’ legs open. His craving overpowers him; he leans down and sucks the tip of Eames’ cock into his mouth.
Eames bucks his hips up, trying to gain purchase into Arthur’s mouth, but doesn’t find it. Arthur leans back up, half a smile on his face, and coats himself with the lube. Throwing the bottle aside, he lifts up Eames’ legs and slowly tries to insert himself.
Eames is biting his lips again, but his eyes are open and looking at Arthur’s hard chest and smooth arms. The way his face looks smug yet patient.
Arthur is busy trying to stretch Eames without hurting him, so he doesn’t notice his audience.
Once he fully gets inside, Eames lets out an “oh fuck” and Arthur moans. Arthur feels that he won’t last long, so he reaches down to stroke Eames. He pulls his thumb over the head, smearing the precome, and matches the strokes to his thrusting, twisting slightly.
After a while, Eames’ eyes start to roll back in his head. But then his eyes snap open and he reaches down to take Arthur’s fingers back into his mouth. Arthur bucks a little more wildly, feeling the end near.
With the tips of Arthur’s fingers still in his mouth, he gasps twice more and comes over his own stomach. Feeling the contractions of Eames’ ass around Arthur’s cock, he bows his head and thrusts a few more times before he comes as well.
A moment later, Arthur collapses onto Eames’ chest and sticky stomach, his head resting in the crook of Eames’ neck. He licks lazily at his shoulder, panting. Eames trails his fingers down Arthur’s back before cupping his ass again. He can’t help it, it’s just so beautiful.
After an indefinable amount of time, Arthur rolls off Eames and onto his back, wiping his hand across his face and smoothing his hair back out of his eyes.
Eames continues to lie on his back, a slow grin spreading over his face. He did it. He saw and felt a naked Arthur. This was much better than winning a round of verbal sparring.
“You know, I don’t remember my ‘naughty mouth’ ever being pushed into the mattress.”
“Fuck you, Eames,” Arthur mumbles, a smile in his voice.
“I’m going to need another moment, then.” Eames looks over at Arthur and laughs. Arthur laughs too and leans over to give him one long kiss before moving onto his back again.
“I’m going to get some water from the minibar. Would you like anything?”
“Water,” Arthur responds simply, throwing his arm over his eyes.
Eames gets off the bed and stumbles once before making it over to the mini-bar. He accidentally steps on Arthur’s pants that were left at the foot of the bed. With a chuckle, he leans down to look at the label on them.
Sure enough, they were Dunhill.